


Night Ride

by dulcemer



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Cyberpunk, Cyborgs, Drug Addiction, F/F, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulcemer/pseuds/dulcemer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night City, year 2077. They had all hoped that this was a year of tranquility—a small glimmer of hope for those who sought a much more peaceful lifestyle. The calm before the storm, for ripples of unrest echoed throughout the city yet again in early March, when a deranged killer tolled up a death count of 14 before being gunned down by a Max Tac Agent. Demonstrations have filled the streets once again, only adding more oil to the already ravaging flames of mass hysteria. Perhaps it is time to take the final stand against the corporations, but who is going to listen to a bunch of hackers and murderers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Net

**Author's Note:**

> So if it wasn't obviously, this is a cyberpunk AU heavily inspired by Cyberpunk 2020 and Deus Ex. I don't know what ships it'll have except for MadoHomu (possibly KyoMami) so I'll leave it clear for now. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Nimble hands skimmed over the wall of a high-rise skyscraper, the chill air doing nothing to the titanium-encased fingers that danced along the brickwork. Above, the sky was lit with a hundred artificial colours bleeding into wide star-less black. Madoka Kaname pulled her jacket closer to her chest, seeking comfort in the press of her NetGear against her body. Walking out into the Big Room was never a fun experience, but Madoka's flatmate, Sayaka, had already shouted at her once for client meetings in the workshop and she wasn't about to get shouted at again.

Madoka checked her biomonitor, reading 10:12 from bright neon numbers across her wrist. It wouldn't be long before helicopters graced the skies, searching for anyone out after curfew. Thankfully, Madoka had picked an area that had few patrols and was also one she knew well enough to duck out of sight if she needed to. There wouldn't have been any hassle at all if it weren't for the damned riots, but that was just something you had to live through when you lived in Night City. An occupational hazard, you might say.

From the streets below the sound of sirens and shouting floated up to the rooftops, prompting Madoka to glance over the edge and see what was going on. From the looks of it a go-gang had started picking a fight with the cops – just the regular cops for now, no cybersoldiers out, _yet._ The Badges had the upper hand, but these boys were pretty rowdy and from the way the neon street lamps glittered off the leader's face, Madoka would say they had vamp implants too. Things were bound to get messy, and Madoka was glad she was several hundred feet above them.

Madoka glanced at her wrist again. 10:18. Twelve minutes to set up before her arranged meeting time. Rolling her shoulders, she ducked into the shadow of a roof-access door, sliding down to sit on the concrete with her back against the wall. Delicately, she pulled out various components of her NetGear – an interface plug, several memorywave chips and, most importantly, her Cyberdeck. This was only the bare minimum of Madoka's usual set-up. Back at the workshop, Madoka's decks stretched across five meters in a beautiful curve that allowed her to hop from one wavelength to another in seconds. Most of her decks were table models, but, though pricey, the one she was holding now let her put her work on the streets. The deck was smaller than her usual ones, about the size of a paperback book, made of a dull grey plastic that didn't look very flashy. Flashy wasn't Madoka's style. It had three output ports for jacking in other people – usually Sayaka – but Madoka was always in control.

Madoka switched the machine on, the low hum of the little box lost in the din of the fray below. She slipped the interface plug onto her wrist, locking it into place on her mechanical hand, and connected that to one of the ports on the deck. A sharp thrill of electricity zipped along her arm, a feeling she still hadn't gotten used to, as the plug synced her movements with the deck's interface. She brought up a mental image of a barcode which the machine scanned, tapping in the Net Access code, and soon all Madoka could see was a kaleidoscope of colours. Sayaka mentioned once that every decker she met always had a thousand-yard stare when they linked up. Like a soldier with shell-shock, she told Madoka. That was perhaps another reason why Madoka chose to take her Netrunning outside of the shop nowadays.

Once she stepped fully into the Net, Madoka immediately brought up a Long Distance Link, allowing instantaneous transfer between cities. Madoka didn't usually go for customers from outside America, but this man was from Japan – specifically a city called Mitakihara, coincidentally Madoka's hometown – and therefore she felt a certain kinship. It's not like she would be charged for the LDL anyway. Convincing the Net that the call was a local one (or was never even made for that matter) was easy enough to do with the right programs. Illegal and dangerous, maybe, but it was free and that was all Madoka cared about.

Madoka quickly set up a chat room consisting of a plain white room, and sent the number to her client, who to her annoyance ended up running ten minutes late. Eventually the customer entered the chat room just as Madoka was about to log out and cancel the meeting.

The man opposite her was in his mid-forties (if his avatar reflected his true appearance), wearing the tell-tale suit of a pissed-off corp who acted like he had better things to be doing right now than talking to a teenage runner. That said, when he looked at Madoka he didn't see a teenager; instead, he would see an older white woman in her mid-twenties, conventionally attractive and also wearing a business suit. Madoka had learnt quickly that people didn't really take a five foot, pink-haired Japanese girl seriously. She'd even been asked before if she was actually a hooker phishing for work. After that incident, Madoka adopted a more “professional” look, since most of her clients were corps of the white male variety.

“Artemis, correct?” he asked, foot tapping away. Already he was getting on Madoka's nerves – it was a good thing she was far too nice to say anything.

“Indeed,” she responded, and quickly took control of the conversation. “I understand you're in need of a way into Zetatech? Your advertisement was extremely vague. If you could please elaborate on what you need me to do, then we can discuss a price.”

“I just need to get in. Access codes, back-doors, whatever,” he said with a throwaway hand. Madoka assumed that wherever this man worked he obviously hadn't had that much experience in data security.

“Sir, Zetatech _specialises_ in computer hardware and software design. A company like that has thousands of different departments-”

“I need employee records, okay?” he replied, frowning.

Madoka smiled. “Very well. Employee records are actually very easy to access. Rather than give you the codes and risk you getting caught, which could be disastrous for both of us, I can simply download everything within the employee database onto a memory chip and then send it your way. Completely secure, of course.”

Out of sight from her client, Madoka had already pulled up the files he requested, something she'd been sitting on for quite a while. This wasn't her first client that had asked for the same records. Zetatech was notorious for carving itself a niche in the industry through nice traditional methods – quality products, industrial espionage and strategically applied violence. Some of her more chatty clients had reported kidnappings and stalking, requesting all kinds of files from the Zetatech core. Madoka kept her sources updated frequently, knowing she was going to get an influx of customers.

“Fine, that's fine. Just make sure it's quick, okay?”

Madoka decided she _really_ didn't like this man. Far too pushy, and the kind to assume Madoka was one of those 'the customer is always right' people, as if she wasn't risking long-term imprisonment or worse for some businessman with a grudge. Still, she kept a smile plastered on her face, even if it was fake, and nodded.

“Of course, sir. Since this is only a small operation, I'll only be charging 2,500 euroDollars.”

“Excuse me? ' _Only_ 2,500?',” the corp scoffed.

“If you're looking to find the executive who's been blackmailing you for the past two months, then I think 2500eD will hardly put a dent in your wallet compared to how much getting  _fired_ would, surely?” Madoka smiled sweetly, revelling in the corp's discomfort. Did he really think she wouldn't do a background check on her clients? She might not have been in this game long, but it was foolish to assume she didn't know how to run a business.

“How did you-  _Ugh_ , never mind. Just take the fucking credits and give me the files.”

“With pleasure. I'll arrange an invoice through NetPay under a private server. Remember the code 23FG90, that’s what you’ll use to identify that I am the one sending you the invoice. Through the program the files will be sent the moment you send the credits.”

“And no one's going to see this?”

“Certainly not. I have a completely clean record and intend to keep it that way,” she replied proudly. “If that is all you wish me to do, then allow me to terminate the chat room and I will begin work immediately.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get me the files and then ditch this number,” he said dismissively, and in a second his avatar blinked away.

Madoka rolled her eyes, shrugging off the avatar and changing into one that reflected her true appearance. She pulled up a video recorder and sent a quick message to Sayaka, telling her she'd be home soon. Once that was sent, Madoka disconnected the link and found herself blind in the sudden darkness of Night City.

A low thrumming filled the air and was quickly all Madoka could hear. She turned just in time to duck from the beam of a spotlight, a giant helicopter soaring above her. Hiding behind an air vent, the phone in her pocket began to vibrate, the ringtone lost in the noise from the chopper.

Putting the phone to her ear, Madoka whispered, “Hello?”

“Madoka, where are you? Why are you whispering? I heard there were riots in Upper Marina. That's where you are, right?"

“Don't worry, Hitomi, they haven't reached me yet.” As she said this a scream from the streets below pierced through the sky. “That's just some clubbers. You don't need to worry about it! I'll be back in ten minutes, bye!” She hung up before Hitomi could say anything else and quickly looked over the edge of the roof.

Below her the gang fight had blown into a full riot. There had to be around a hundred citizens, throwing punches, hurling rocks into windows. Even a few innocent by-standers were getting caught in the ruckus, just casualties in waiting. If Madoka attempted to go down there now, _she_ was going to be a casualty in waiting. The fire escape was probably too risky, but maybe the drain pipes...

Suddenly, Madoka was bathed in light. With a groan she stepped away from the edge of the roof and raised her hands behind her head. As a cop droned through a megaphone about Night City police and staying still and dropping any weapons she might be holding, Madoka closed her eyes and thought about the lecture she was going to get once Hitomi came to bail her out.

A Badge dropped from the helicopter, followed by three of his friends.

“Ma'am, do you realise why you are under arrest?”

“Yes, sir,” Madoka replied, trying to look as humble and innocent as possible. “I didn't realise it had gotten this late, though. My biomonitor glitched.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say,” the cop replied sarcastically. “You're still coming downtown.” Madoka sighed internally; it had been worth a shot.

This definitely wasn't how she had hoped to spend her evening. As she was cuffed and led down the fire escape by an entourage of cops, she debated whether or not it would be worth it to run. She had an EMP in her pocket that could easily give these boys a dirtnap. After a moment of thought she decided she best not. With any hope they'd lock her up for the night and let her out tomorrow. It might be another blip on her criminal record but hey, at least she was still no where near beating Sayaka's record.

 

 


	2. Causing Static

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaay, I'm actually updating something. I told you I would eventually finish this. 
> 
> But yeah I'm not going to ramble. Intro: Kyouko.

“It’ll be just a little longer, Miss Sakura. Mr. Park is having some trouble confirming your ID with the corp soldiers. Everything should check out, of course, it’s probably a technical bug causing the delay-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay…” Kyouko replied, not really paying attention. Instead she was too busy flipping idly through the TV channels, finally settling on News 54. A brave young reporter stood in the middle of the riots trying her best to cover the action; Kyouko wished she was in her place. Much better than being stuck inside a reinforced limousine without any decent windows.

Well, there _were_ windows, but two beefy bodyguards with full body-plating were blocking her view. Her rep in the front seat had told her that there was nothing to see - just a bunch of rioters making a mess of the streets over nothing – but that alone had piqued her curiosity. It didn't help that Kyouko was hard-wired for excitement. If it was completely up to her she would be out there now throwing bricks through windows and tearing down street signs. After all, a little anarchy never hurt anyone.

But that said, Kyouko didn't like the idea of police confinement, so expressing her anti-establishment views through song lyrics was the best she could do. And the best she really was. When “ _Causing Static_ ” hit the charts, Kyouko Sakura became the most well-known Rockerboy in America, let alone Night City. Most of the time her lyrics were dismissed as the angsty rebellious ramblings of a teenage girl, but Kyouko believed in her fans. She knew she could change the world.

Except it was hard to change the world when you were squashed between a pair of bodyguards who wouldn't even answer your questions. Kyouko leaned as far forward as she could to glance out of the window, but all she could see was the reflection of her fiery red shift-tacts – a cyberoptic that made her eyes seem as if they were actually ablaze.

“It’s getting stuffy,” she announced. “Can’t I step out for just a second?”

The bodyguards didn't respond. She expected they were told to only respond to her rep, which only pissed her off more. Huffing, Kyouko sank into her seat, defeated, and started fiddling with her TechHair. All of this over nothing, her rep said, as if he were completely oblivious to what was going on in the news. Or maybe he just didn't want to think about the looming threat of cyberpsychosis and the psycho killers that would follow it. God knows Kyouko didn't.

“You know, I think it's a good thing that woman went Psycho down at the Dynalar store,” Kyouko told her bodyguards, even if they weren't listening. “It was about time something interesting happened. See, when I watched the news story I suddenly got all inspired and banged out this amazing riff on my 'axe. I'm thinking I'm gonna write a new song after her.”

She looked up for any kind of reaction, frowning when she received none. “I'm gonna go hard as fuck with the distortion pedal. And then for the video I want it to be really out there and conceptual. Like, I want to show myself going through cyberpsychosis, you know? Get really fucking intense and lose my humanity and shit, with bits of metal sticking out of my skin. Wouldn't that be awesome? My agent's always saying I should step up my game. What do _you_ think?”

Silence.

She threw her hands up, “Well, thank you very _fucking_ much for your input. I appreciate it a lot!”

The driver's window went down and Kyouko caught the flash off a pair of black sunglasses.

“Is everything okay, Kyouko?” her rep asked, punctuated with an exasperated smile.

“I'm fucking bored, Park.”

“It'll only be a few minutes and then we'll be back at the hotel.”

Kyouko rolled her eyes as the window went back up. Like she was going to be any less bored back at the hotel.

A second later the car jostled to one side. Kyouko was suddenly pressed in between the two guards, who had finally sprung to life. One started talking quickly into his earpiece, trying to get a hold of the situation, whilst the other put his hands on Kyouko's shoulders to keep her in place. Again the car jostled, more violently this time, and Kyouko just knew someone was trying to tip it over. Even though she knew she might get hurt, Kyouko couldn't help the excitement that began to bubble up inside her. _Finally_ something was happening!

The first guard muttered something under his breath, though it sounded more like a hum, and opened the car door, closing it quickly behind him. Kyouko quickly leaned across to see what was happening but the bodyguard was blocking her view from the outside. Typical. Muffled talking came from the front of the car and gunshots sounded from outside.

“My apologies,” one of the guards suddenly said in a tinny voice. _Huh_ , she didn't expect them to be droids. “My colleague and I will vacate to assess the situation outside. We ask that you remain inside the vehicle until either of us return...” Kyouko tuned out the rest. As the droid went on with his scripted chat, Kyouko's mind was buzzing with plans for escape.

“- thank you for your co-operation,” the guard finished before exiting the car, keeping his body at an angle that prevented Kyouko from sneaking a look outside.

 _Co-operation._ _Hah_. Since when was Kyouko known for co-operation?

With a grin on her lips, Kyouko wiggled across to the opposite side of the car and slipped through the door, ignoring the protests of the driver. The bodyguards were preoccupied with pinning down a rioter and Kyouko dashed across the street completely unnoticed. Once across the street and into an unlit alley, the guards had completely disappeared from Kyouko's sight, and hopefully she was out of theirs.

“Finally!” she yelled out into the streets, voice echoing across the alleyways. She took a solid moment to revel in the glory of her escape, before sense took over and she snuck away before her bodyguards could follow her shout.

Kyouko wasn't a stupid girl. She knew to keep to the shadows, calibrating her eyes and hair to the same shade of dark brown so she didn't particularly stand out. She tied her hair into a messy bun and zipped up her jacket to hide her flashy designer clothes. This way she was barely recognisable as a famous singer. She figured it wouldn't take too long for the guards to find her again, but at least now she could breathe some (moderately) fresh air and stretch her legs out.

And she could finally get a good look at the action. Everything around her was loud and bright and her head was spinning from the excitement to the point that it started to hurt – but she didn't care at all.

But that didn't mean she shouldn't have. Kyouko could feel the familiar nag at the back of her head telling her it was either time to top up or pack it in, but she willed the pain away and focused on the lights. She'd be okay for another hour and she'd be back to the hotel by then.

Taking a left, Kyouko ducked into a darker street, just to rest her eyes for a second because _hell_ did they need it. Her eyes took longer than they should to adjust – some stupid glitch probably – and she had to run her hand along the wall to feel her way.

As things came into focus, a group of figures materialised before her, each with some kind of weapon in their hands. Kyouko slowed and hoped that they hadn't seen her yet. She began to back away, but as her eyes shifted into full focus the optics lit up in fire, catching the attention of one of the goons.

“Hey, look over here!” he shouted, making sure all of his friends knew exactly where Kyouko was. “Found us a right pretty princess to play with. Hey, sweetheart, it's a little bit late to be out all alone, isn't it?”

Kyouko stilled, feeling a chill run down her spine – but not of fear. This was a little thrill of excitement at the thought of a fight.

She swivelled around and locked eyes with the man closest. Lanky and cocky, the guy's confidence probably came from the amount of lackeys behind him instead of any skill. They were armed but she could take them, probably. She just hoped they scared easily.

“Look, boys,” she began, looking as uninterested as she could. “I really don't have time to be 'playing' with you. And if you're going to try to make me then you're only going to end up comatose at a MedTech's.”

Kyouko had to give them props; they had the audacity to laugh right in her face. Maybe she didn't look very intimidating now, but she was about to wipe the grins of their faces.

The leader scoffed. “If you think you can take us on, then you're making a hell of a mistake. Ain't hard to see the odds are against you.”

Kyouko shrugged her shoulders and made an effort to look bored. Then with no effort at all she interlocked her fingers tightly together. Her knuckles cracked, the sound of metal sliding on metal piercing through the quiet, and as her hands pulled apart, her nails extended into long metal claws with a deadly double edge. Kyouko's Scratchers weren't the deadliest kind of cyberweapon on the market, but at the end of the day they were fucking sharp and you wouldn't want to be bad end of them. And okay, so maybe they weren't _legal_ , but they were handy.

“I think you're making a mistake here, boys,” she warned, trying to keep a smirk from forming on her lips. Her fingers twitched in anticipation as the gang's leader scoffed.

“How come, princess?” the leader asked, grinning nastily. “You’re starting to look a little rough. Been wired up too long?”

All of a sudden, Kyouko's limbs felt heavy. She cursed under her breath and pulled back, hoping her little stunt would have stunned the gangbangers enough for her to get away. She retracted her Scratchers and with shaky hands tried to find any kind of Stim she could in her pockets. God, this was _not_ the time _or_ place to amp out. Usually the drugs kept her going through a concert, but they probably wore off quicker if she used her Scratchers. A ringing pierced through her ears, her headache from earlier coming back full force. Her hands were shaking violently and when she tried to walk she could only stumble and fall onto her knees.

She looked up and through blurry vision could see the gang members approach again. Well, at least if she was going out, she went out with style. She barely had the power to release her Scratchers as all her energy quickly left her body. Black spots danced across her eyes as her head fell to the floor, ears echoing with the sounds of the laughing gangsters.

In the back of her head, she could swear she saw the men start to back away and it almost looked like one broke into a run, but her vision was too blurry and all she could hear was muffled shouts. She made out a bright light shining in her face, but then suddenly she was completely blind. Another second and her vision returned somewhat, but all she could see was her own eye colour reflecting back at her, blinking wildly. She could hear and feel nothing, and soon drifted unconscious.

 


End file.
